Peter vs the Ring
by marihun
Summary: An unplanned late night trip back to the office forces Peter to enter the world of espionage - and leads to some shocking discoveries about his favorite consultant.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** I've started to write this story quite a while ago, and while I'm not the fastest writer, I can promise that I will update it as often as I can, and I'm definitely going to finish it one day! ;) It's not connected to "Hidden Talents" in any way. Many-many thanks to my wonderful betas, Lady Black-Malfoy (who's actually more than a beta, more like a co-writer :)) and AwesomeQueenoftheLab for their immense help!

**Timeline:** It's set somewhere between ep. 1x11 (Home Invasion) and the Season 1 finale of White Collar, and some time after ep. 3x15 (Chuck vs. the Role Models) for Chuck. So that means Kate is still alive, however it's slightly AU for Chuck: the events of Chuck vs. the Tooth never happen, the Intersect doesn't start to malfunction, so no hallucinations, and definitely no nightmares about Shaw! ;)

So without further ado:

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_**Peter vs. the Ring**_

**Chapter 1**

Special Agent Peter Burke stepped out of the elevator at the 21st floor of the FBI offices and thought, _'Can this day get any worse?'_

Not only were they working on a very difficult case in which the team had made no progress, but Garrett Fowler from the bureau's Office of Professional Responsibility had shown up again. Fowler and the rest of the OPR group had immediately taken over the conference room with the apparent goal to bother everyone in sight. On top of all that, Peter had forgotten his wife's birthday present at work. So, he really wasn't in the best mood, considering he had just left the office only to have to turn around halfway home and drive all the way back.

Entering through the glass doors of the White Collar Crime Unit, he didn't even bother turning the lights on. Ambient light from the surrounding buildings filtered into the mostly-glass offices, illuminating the room well enough to see. In New York it was never truly dark, so he figured why waste electricity.

Peter quickly started up the staircase leading to the upper level, but paused abruptly in the middle of it when he noticed something strange. The blinds on the glass wall of the conference room were closed, yet he could still make out some light seeping out from underneath the door. His first thought was that Fowler or one of the other OPR agents were working late; however, he quickly discarded the idea since they probably would have turned on all the lights in the room. Placing a hand on his gun just in case, he silently made his way up the rest of the stairs.

The door to the room was slightly ajar, and Peter snuck over to the adjacent wall, then leaned back against it. Now that he had a semi-clear view into the large room, he could see that the light was coming from one of the laptop monitors on the table. However, that wasn't what startled him the most and caused him to slowly draw his gun. The object of his attention was the black figure who currently had his back to the door Peter was looking into.

Unfortunately for Peter, the figure's face was hidden by a mask, so an ID was impossible. It seemed that the figure was concentrating on the screen and not on the doorway, so, steeling himself, Peter flicked the safety off of his Glock. Mentally counting to three, he kicked the door in and leveled his weapon on the figure.

"FBI! Put your hands behind your head and step away from the table!" Peter sharply demanded, then asked, "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

The man in black didn't respond, but he did step back from the table and turn around. In the dim light it was hard for Peter to make out any distinguishing features.

When the figure didn't move his hands, Peter ordered again, "Hands behind your head or I will do it for you!"

The agent cautiously started in the figure's direction with his gun steady on the man. Suddenly, in a move too quick for Peter to react to, the figure pulled out what looked like a gun of his own and, without any hesitation, pulled the trigger.

The weapon went off with a quiet hiss, and something hit Peter in the neck. The sharp pain distracted him from firing, and black dots quickly filled his vision, followed by a heaviness dragging down his limbs. The Glock slipped from his grasp as his hand went lax, and he felt his legs give out under him. His last conscious thought before everything went completely black was that, strangely, it didn't hurt.

Once sure that the threat was down, the black-clad figure walked over to the fallen agent and checked his pulse. Hesitating over the man for a second before rising, he then strode back to the computer and disconnected a small flash drive.

The figure headed for the door, but then stopped for a second in the doorway. Looking back at Peter, his blue eyes seemed to glow as he said softly, "I'm sorry."

Minutes later, he was down the staircase, through the emergency exit which he had earlier disabled, and into a car. Now alone, he yanked off his mask and pulled out his cell phone, then quickly dialed a number.

"General? It's me. I've copied everything off of the hard drives, but I ran into a small problem. Pe- Agent Burke showed up and saw me. I have no idea why he came back, but I had no other choice – I had to tranq him," the man stated, a note of apology in his voice. He waited until the person on the other end was finished responding before he continued. "I know. But General, I think the best way to solve this situation is to read him in-"

Wincing as he listened to the suddenly angry voice coming through the phone, he explained, "Yes, I know, but if he doesn't get an explanation, he could blow the whole op. Trust me, he isn't going to let it go without getting answers. Besides, I think he could help us a lot. Peter's one of the best, and certainly most trustworthy, agents I've ever met. Plus, he has a lot more access to what we need than I do. I can only hack into the FBI's database so many times before someone discovers it."

As he waited for a reply, the man checked his watch. Peter would be waking up soon, and he had to get out of there before that happened.

"No, I think it's possible without blowing my cover. And if someone with as much authority as you have would give him the explanation, that would help," he reasoned. "Yes. I used the mildest dose. I think he'll be conscious again in about ten minutes." He paused before saying, "Thank you, General."

Sighing, CIA Agent Bryce Larkin, or – as everyone in the FBI's White Collar Crime Unit knew him – conman-turned-consultant Neal Caffrey, shut off his phone before starting his car's engine and peeling away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: **Once again many thanks to my betas, Lady Black-Malfoy and AwesomeQueenoftheLab. Also thanks to everyone who reviewed my story, favorited it or put it on alert :) Keep doing it! ;)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Chuck, White Collar or any part of them... but I sure wish I did!

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**Chapter 2**

The first thing Peter took notice of, as he slowly regained consciousness, was the hard surface he was lying on. It felt strangely like the carpet in the office, though why he was on the floor was still a mystery to his slow mind. He tried to sit up, but it proved to be harder than he thought when his arm gave out from underneath him and he fell back with a thump. His body was still a little numb, though, so he didn't feel much. There was a constant buzzing sound in his ears and it felt like the room was swaying, even as he was lying down.

'What the hell just happened?' He tried in vain to remember how he ended up knocked out on the conference room floor, and slowly began to check his body for wounds. As he passed a hand over his neck, his fingers got caught on something that didn't belong. Suddenly, a memory hit him. The mysterious black-clad figure that shot him in the neck flashed across his eyes, and he paused. Yanking the offending object out, he lethargically moved to sit up so he could get a better look at it. However, the light on the floor was too poor for him to see the details of the object, so he scooted closer to the edge of the conference table and pulled himself up into the closest chair.

In the light of the still-working laptop, he started to examine the object and recognized it as a small tranquilizer dart. Blinking a few times to try and clear his vision, it took him a moment to realize that the buzzing sound he kept hearing was actually coming from the cell phone in his pocket. Quickly, he pulled it out, thinking maybe it was El calling. She was probably worried that he wasn't home by now. He was surprised to see that the caller's number was restricted.

Frowning slightly, he flipped it open anyway and said, "Agent Burke."

"Hello, Agent Burke? This is General Diane Beckman, Director of the NSA," a stern female voice spoke on the other end of the line. Peter's eyes widened in shock, and he choked as he tried to speak. What was the NSA doing calling him? He swallowed before finding his voice again.

"He-hello General. What can I do for you?" he asked.

"We have to talk about what just happened to you," Beckman replied shortly.

"What? How-" Peter stumbled over his words. "What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about the man you found in your conference room a few minutes ago, who tranquilized you." Peter's eyes widened even more upon hearing this.

"How- how do you know about this?" he finally asked.

"Agent Burke, you accidentally stumbled into a classified operation. I'm afraid that I must ask you not to report it to anyone," the woman said. It may have been phrased as a simple request, but Peter knew differently. It was a command.

"Wait a second! What do you mean?" he questioned.

"It's a matter of national security. I'm sorry, but I can't give you any details about it over the phone." She certainly didn't sound sorry, he thought. Beckman continued, "It's unfortunate enough that you found out about it, let alone in this manner."

"Now just wait a minute!" Peter raised his voice as his shock started to turn into anger. "I find a masked intruder digging around on FBI computers, which he has no clearance to do in the first place, and stealing info from the FBI. Then he shoots me, and you expect me to keep my mouth shut without knowing what the hell is going on? All because you say it's a matter of national security? Listen, lady, you can claim to be anyone the hell you want-" he started, but was cut off.

"Agent Burke!" The female voice exclaimed, sounding slightly outraged at his tone, "I understand your doubts, and while I am willing to give you an explanation, this line is not secure. We will have to meet personally."

Peter hesitated for a few moments before answering, but in the end he consented. "All right, then. When and where do you want to meet?"

"Be at the Millennium Hilton by tomorrow at 0900," the woman ordered. "And Agent Burke, no one can find out about what happened tonight."

"I don't know how you could pull that off," Peter stated. "Security-"

"The security feed was taken care of," the woman responded. "Not a single person except you has knowledge that someone entered the building unauthorized."

Peter rubbed at his forehead in an effort to get rid of the building headache. "Of course it was," he mumbled to himself. "All right, then. I won't report it until I hear what this is really all about."

A small sigh of relief could be heard from the other end, and the woman said, "Thank you, Agent Burke. I look forward to meeting with you tomorrow." And with that, the line went dead.

Peter snapped his own phone shut and exhaled heavily. "What have I just gotten into?" he asked himself. Glancing at the laptop, he saw that it was still running.

The screen had the FBI seal as a background, and a password-protected screen lock was up. However, it wasn't too hard to guess that the mysterious intruder had probably hacked in and copied something of value. Suddenly, Peter realized that the laptop was the one Fowler had been using. _'This is really getting interesting! Why would the NSA want to gather info about Fowler this way?'_ he wondered.

Momentarily, he tried to push his resentment toward Fowler aside and think clearly about the situation. It was one thing that he hated the guy – after all, he tried to frame Neal for stealing that pink diamond necklace. Not to mention he went against Peter personally by bugging his house and getting him suspended. But if what the alleged General said was true, and the NSA went to this much trouble just to get information about Fowler off the records, then he must be into some really shady business. Peter couldn't help but feel a little satisfied that someone was looking into the man. Making up his mind, he decided that it was worth meeting this supposed NSA director and listen to what she had to say before he would do anything.

He took one more look at the tiny dart he was still holding, and then pocketed it. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, testing if his legs would hold him up. A small smirk crept into the corner of his mouth as he turned off the laptop, thinking about Fowler's apparent problems. Then he sluggishly walked out of the conference room, down the stairs, and to the elevators. Once again, Elizabeth's birthday present was lying forgotten on his desk.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: **As usual, many thanks to my betas, Lady Black-Malfoy and AwesomeQueenoftheLab for all their help. Also thanks again for the reviews, story alerts and favorites! :) Reviews are the writer's food, please, don't let me starve! ;)

**Disclaimer:** Nope, still don't own Chuck or White Collar.

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**Chapter 3**

It took Peter a lot longer than usual to get home. He was still dizzy from the effects of the tranquilizer, and he had decided to take a cab home instead of driving himself. When he finally staggered into his house, he collapsed almost immediately on the couch closest to the front door.

"Honey?" his wife, Elizabeth, called from the kitchen.

"Hey, El," Peter answered, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears.

"What took you so long? I was starting to get worried when you didn't even call," she said, wiping her hands off with a small tea towel as she was coming into the room. When she noticed the state her husband was in, she threw the towel on their dining room table and hurried to his side.

"Oh my God, Peter! What happened to you?" she asked, frowning in concern over his disheveled state.

"You're not going to believe it," Peter said, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out the tranquilizer dart and held it out so Elizabeth could see it. "This is what happened."

"What is that?" Elizabeth asked, leaning closer to get a good look at the small object. "It looks like those darts used for tranquilizing animals..."

"That's more or less what it is," Peter said grimly.

"What? And you were shot with that? But who did this to you? Why- where-"

"In the office. I had to go back because... damn!" He felt like slapping himself on the forehead when he realized that once again he forgot the present.

"What?" Elizabeth looked at him, puzzled.

"I left your present on my desk. I'm so sorry, El! I really wanted to make this night special for you, but with all that's been going on lately, and now this..."

"Don't worry about that right now," Elizabeth admonished him. "Just tell me what exactly happened to you."

"I found a masked man in the conference room, digging around on one of the computers," Peter started, and proceeded to tell his wife the story up until the General's call. He was so used to sharing everything with her it didn't even cross his mind, in his current state, that the General's order of not telling anyone about the events at the office included his wife as well. With every sentence, Elizabeth's face grew paler and paler.

"This is really unbelievable," she said softly when Peter finished his tale. "And do you believe her? Could this really have been some classified NSA operation?"

"I have no idea," Peter answered, sighing. "I mean, everything points towards that. I can't imagine who else could get in the building without security noticing, not to mention what reason they would have to do so. And the guy was definitely a professional. He was prepared for everything, including if someone saw him. But it was obvious that he didn't want to kill anyone. I don't think bad guys would run around with tranquilizer guns."

"Fortunately for you." Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. She gave out a loud sigh and looked back up at him. "So what are you going to do? Are you going to have this thing checked for prints?"

"No, I don't think so," Peter responded. "I doubt there are any prints on it other than mine, but even if the guy was careless enough to leave his prints on it, I don't want to have problems with the NSA if all of this proves to be true. I guess I'll just go to the meeting tomorrow. What happens after that, I have no idea. If the General gives me a good explanation for what happened, then I'll keep quiet, just as she wants me to." He leaned back on the couch and continued, "I don't know why, but I believe her. And not just because it's about Fowler." He smiled weakly at his wife. "Although, I can't say it's not the main reason either. I'm just really sorry about ruining tonight."

"Forget about it," Elizabeth waved him off. "After what you've just told me, having you here in one piece is the best birthday gift for me." She leaned closer to him and gave him a quick kiss, which Peter was more than happy to return. "Now let's get you to bed – you really need to rest," she announced as she tried to help him stand up.

"Just a minute," Peter said as a thought crossed his mind. He pushed himself up and walked slowly over to his laptop, which was sitting on the dining room table. "I want to check something."

"Should you be up yet?" El asked, eyeing her husband with concern.

"I'm OK," he tried to reassure his wife. "I just want to see if the woman that called me could really be the Director of the NSA. She must be somewhat of a public figure; it should be easy to check," Peter explained as he typed the name General Diane Beckman into Google.

He immediately found what he was looking for. At least the name and her position were real. He leaned closer to the monitor, examining the photos the search had brought up. Many of the pictures depicted a stern-looking red-haired woman in what he estimated to be her late forties to early fifties and dressed in the Air Force dress uniform. One of the photos even showed her talking to Condoleezza Rice.

"Is that her?" Elizabeth asked, looking over Peter's shoulder.

"I guess so. At least, this is _a_ General Diane Beckman. Whether she's the woman I talked to, that's another question. I'll only know tomorrow."

"Then you better try to forget about all this for the night." Elizabeth rubbed his shoulders. "Let's go to bed. Sounds like you'll need all your strength for tomorrow."

Peter only smiled at her, conveying his gratitude without saying a word. Then, accepting his wife's help up, he leaned on her and the two slowly made their way up the stairs to their bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: **This chapter is the start of a little trip back in time (OK, maybe not so little ;) )As always, many thanks to my betas, Lady Black-Malfoy and AwesomeQueenoftheLab for all their help, and to everyone who left a review, put it on story alert or favorited it! :) Reviews are the writer's food, please, don't let me starve! ;)

**Disclaimer:** I own Chuck and White Collar (on dvd... or that doesn't count? Darn...)

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**Chapter 4**

Bryce was glad Peter didn't come to take him to work that morning. After last night's events, it would have taken a lot more effort than usual to keep up his cover when alone with the agent, and he figured it would be a lot easier in the office with everyone else around. He did have another chat with General Beckman after she talked to Peter, and it wasn't easy to convince her that he could continue the mission with his cover intact. Last night he was confident he could pull it off; however, this morning he felt his stomach tighten whenever he thought about having to face his partner.

He sighed as he glanced towards the glass doors of the White Collar Crime Unit offices, checking if the agent had arrived yet. He was sitting at his desk in the lower level of the offices, pretending to look over files, but his mind kept going back to the previous night again and again. What he still didn't understand was why Peter came back, since all day long Bryce knew the man was looking forward to going home and celebrating his wife's birthday. He cursed himself for not being careful enough and not noticing that Peter came back to the office until it was too late. Having to shoot him, even if it was with a tranquilizer dart, was a lot harder than he had expected. He never really had any qualms about doing whatever was necessary for the sake of the mission; after all, he didn't even have problems with using his once best friend, Chuck, as a human shield when he tried to escape from the CIA's custody almost two years before. But this was somehow different. This was his longest deep cover mission to date, and as much as he tried to keep his distance with everyone, he had to realize it was getting harder and harder. This was definitely not the way he imagined things would go when it all started.

_**One year ago**_

_Bryce felt like he had spent an eternity in the darkness before he finally found a small ray of white light. He started towards it, and as he got closer he felt the light envelope him completely. He tried to open his eyes, but it wasn't easy as the whiteness of his surroundings almost blinded him. In addition, his head was suddenly pounding, and it felt strangely heavy. He shut his eyes and tried to open them again, but it still hurt. Bryce decided it wasn't worth fighting, and he just let them slide shut when a deep male voice suddenly speaking right next to him caused him to tense up._

_"He's regaining consciousness."_

_"Finally," said another voice. This time it belonged to a woman, and sounded a lot more familiar than the male voice. Bryce felt a shadow over him, and he tried opening his eyes again, this time with more success. The blurry female form that was leaning above him started to come into focus as he blinked a couple of times, and he finally recognized General Diane Beckman._

_"Agent Larkin," she greeted him. "It's about time."_

_"You had us quite worried," the male voice announced. "Good to have you back."_

_Bryce was slowly taking in his surroundings. He was in a white room that was similar to the one he had been kept in after he had been revived months before; the only difference was that this time he was lying in a hospital bed instead of tied to an examination chair. He swallowed a couple of times, trying to find his voice._

_"Why am I here? What happened?" he finally managed to get out the questions._

_"We were hoping you could tell us what exactly happened," General Beckman had directed the question back to him. "What do you remember?"_

_Bryce was frantically trying to get his thoughts together. Memories of yet another white room flashed across his vision._

_"I was in the Intersect room..." he finally started, "and one of Miles's men shot me. They were working for the Ring. I had locked myself into the room. I had no other choice..." He coughed, since the talking was beginning to dry his throat out. "I couldn't let them have the Intersect. I had to destroy it, but I couldn't get to it. Then..." He tried to recall the events, and he winced as he remembered what happened next._

_"What happened then?" General Beckman inquired._

_"Chuck showed up. Oh my God, Chuck! Is he OK? Where is he?"_

_"He's fine, don't worry about him," The General said, attempting to reassure him. "Go on, what happened?"_

_"I gave him the device to destroy the Intersect. Then... everything just went black. Did he do it? Did Chuck destroy the Intersect?"_

_"Yes, he did," the General answered, pausing for a second before continuing, "after uploading it."_

_"He uploaded it?" Bryce cried out in disbelief. He tried to sit up again, but the doctor gently, yet firmly, pushed him back down. "No, Chuck, why?" he moaned._

_He looked at the General as if expecting an answer, but she just looked back at him without saying a word. "Where is he now?" Bryce finally asked._

_"In Prague, undergoing training. Now that he has the Intersect 2.0, he needs to learn how to use it properly to become a real agent," Beckman answered._

_"In Prague?" Bryce asked back, puzzled. "How long have I been here?"_

_"Two weeks," the doctor spoke up. "You're very lucky that backup was already on the way when you were shot, and that the Ring agents didn't move you too much. A few more minutes, and we wouldn't have been able to bring you back."_

_"Bring me back? What do you mean?" Bryce inquired, shutting his eyes. All the talking was quickly tiring him out. "Are you saying I was...?"_

_"Dead? Yes," the General finished his sentence. "And that also brings up a very important question." She took a deep breath before continuing, "You see, it seems like your eyes were open during the time Mr. Bartowski uploaded the Intersect."_

_"What are you talking about?" Bryce was trying to make sense of the General's words. "Are you saying I could have uploaded it as well? You just said I was dead! Is that even possible?"_

_"Well, you were not brain-dead," the doctor said. Bryce turned towards him. As he got a good look at his face, he felt his eyelids flutter and a string of images began to flash before his eyes; photos of the doctor, and data from his agency profile. Then, just as suddenly as they came, the images disappeared. Bryce blinked a couple of times, disoriented._

_"I guess that answers our question," the General finally said, glancing at the doctor._


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: **Sorry for the delay, real life kinda got in the way... Anyway, the trip to Bryce/Neal's past (and head) continues. I like to stick as much to canon as possible, but some things do have to be sacrificed and changed for this story, so it would work. Hope you'll like it anyway, you know how to let me know about that! ;) As usual, many thanks to my wonderful betas, Lady Black-Malfoy and AwesomeQueenoftheLab for all their help, and to everyone who left a review, put it on story alert or favorited it! :)

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**Chapter 5**

**_Three weeks later_**

_Bryce was getting restless. He felt fine, yet the doctor still only let him out of the bed for short walks, and he made it quite clear that Bryce shouldn't even think about testing the physical skills of the Intersect. So, he was stuck in his room, working on perfecting his new non-physical skills._

_He was getting pretty good with the information flashes. The first couple of times he couldn't help but blurt out the information he flashed on; however, he quickly managed to fight back this urge, and started to work on hiding the physical signs of his flashes. After all, if anyone were to notice the weird flutter of his eyelids, it would blow his cover immediately. He finally discovered that if he kept his eyes shut when the flash hit, he was able to concentrate on keeping them open without the flutter after that._

_Currently, he was working on his language skills. He had managed to get satellite TV installed in his room with the excuse of testing the language flashes. At first, he focused on the newscasts that allowed him to get more information flashes, some of which proved to be useful for current CIA/NSA missions. But his initial intention to use the TV as just another part of his training was seriously tested when he stumbled onto an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation on one of the Italian channels._

_It had been too long since he had time for what once were his favorite activities, and the temptation to watch and try out the Intersect's abilities on something other than the news was too big to resist. At first he found the dubbing a little annoying and the occasional bad translation hilarious, but he quickly pushed it aside. He could enjoy the show as he hadn't done since he finished college._

_Getting in touch with his inner nerd felt a lot better than he thought. He hadn't even realized how much he missed doing simple things like watching his old favorite shows until he had the time and the chance to do it. So, during the next couple of days he spent most of his time watching episodes of Star Trek, Babylon 5, Battlestar Galactica, Stargate SG-1, and many other sci-fi shows. They were in a variety of languages, from German and French to Spanish and Japanese, along with a few in Tagalog and Hungarian. The number of other languages that were contained in the Intersect was vast. The TV shows also allowed him to practice lip-reading and comparing the translation to the original lines. While the Serbian, Croatian, Romanian, Hebrew, or Dutch subtitled versions weren't as challenging as the dubbed episodes, he spent quite some time with them as well. However, he did find the Polish way of using a lector to read every actor's lines too annoying, so he discarded that one pretty quickly._

_He was channel surfing again when the sound of the door being unlocked from the outside alerted him to someone entering. Bryce wasn't too surprised to see it was the General._

_"How are you feeling today?" she asked._

_"Great," Bryce answered. "I can't wait to get out of this room."_

_"Good, because I have a mission for you," the General stated._

_"Already?" Bryce's eyes widened in surprise. "But I didn't even have the chance to train with the Intersect yet–"_

_"You're not going to need it," the General cut him off sharply. "Actually, it's not really a mission. It's only a short trip to maintain one of your covers."_

_Bryce only looked at her quizzically, so she continued._

_"Kate Moreau has requested to visit Neal Caffrey."_

_Bryce was lost in his thoughts on the plane back to LA. Kate's visit in the prison had left him confused. It had been a long time since her last visit, and the last thing he expected was her going through all the trouble to get permission to visit him in a maximum security prison, only to tell him that it was over between them. Bryce felt like something was off, although he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly was wrong. After the visit, he read all the letters Kate had sent Neal during the four years, but they were all the same–encouraging Neal to hang on, and telling him she loved him. There wasn't anything in the last few letters that would indicate she wanted to break up. Therefore, he made the decision to ask General Beckman's permission to check up on what Kate had been doing lately so he could try to find out what made her act that way._

_Seeing Kate Moreau had been strange, to say the least. He never had problems faking his feelings, but after what happened to him recently he found it difficult getting into Neal Caffrey's skin again. Acting as if Kate just broke his heart into a million pieces, when in reality he couldn't care less, was more difficult than he expected. It wasn't that he didn't feel anything for the woman._

_Quite the contrary, actually. When he first met Kate as Neal Caffrey, it had surprised even him how little of an effort it took for him to pretend she was the love of his life. While they were living together, there were moments when he almost had to remind himself that their relationship wasn't real. But Bryce was always good at compartmentalizing his emotions, so it didn't really hurt him when Kate broke up with him. Although, he did have to pretend to move heaven and earth to find her while he was going on shorter side missions and trying to evade the FBI at the same time. In the end, when "Neal" went to prison and Bryce shed the cover, he locked the door on any remaining feelings he had for her. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted by thinking of her while he was on missions. Fortunately, his new partner took care of that little problem._

_Bryce gave out a loud sigh. Oh, yes, he thought. Compared to Sarah Walker, Kate Moreau didn't even stand a chance. Especially after the three years they spent together as partners in every sense–equals in a way that he and Kate never could be. There were so many reasons. It wasn't just because he couldn't reveal who he really was, but also because they were on the opposite sides of the law. After she lost her job as Vincent Adler's assistant, Kate seemed to adapt to life as a con artist with surprising ease, and she didn't seem to want to make anything more of her life. On the other hand, Sarah, who, Bryce suspected, came from much the same background, managed to find a way to use the same skills for good..._

_No. He stopped that stream of thought. Kate Moreau doesn't even come close to Sarah Walker. And yet, now he lost both of them._

_He should have seen it, Bryce thought, admonishing himself. He should have seen it right when he first came back from the dead. But he was so caught up in his own problems–trying to prove he wasn't rogue–that he wasn't paying attention to the signs. He hadn't even taken it seriously on their next mission together. Not even when Chuck's brother-in-law, thinking he was Sarah's ex, told him in no uncertain terms to stay out of Chuck's way, since Sarah obviously loved him. While it was more than obvious that Chuck had fallen hard for Sarah, and while she hadn't been acting completely as her usual cool, professional self either, placing Chuck's well-being ahead of completing the mission (an act that even resulted in a short hospital stay for her), in the end Bryce still managed to convince himself that Sarah was just playing her role as Chuck's cover girlfriend to perfection._

_However, the last time they met, he couldn't close his eyes to the truth. Sarah Walker, the CIA's best agent, the woman whose life centered around her job and who never allowed anyone to get too close to her, not even Bryce… had apparently let her guard down and had fallen in love with Chuck Bartowski. So much that she had eventually said no to her assignment with Bryce. And the worst part of it was that he could actually understand Sarah's choice. After all, Chuck was the most kind-hearted person Bryce had ever known. The man was someone who managed to see the best in everyone, in spite of all the family problems that had happened to him during his childhood and everything that came later, including Bryce's betrayal of their friendship. During their cover relationship, Chuck had introduced Sarah to a world she never before had a chance to live in–a world of normality with friends, family, and where people and relationships came before the mission._

_Bryce couldn't help but replay one of the last images of her in his mind: Sarah, standing on the beach in that beautiful lavender dress, with a bouquet in hand as one of Ellie Bartowski's bridesmaids. He couldn't help but smile. The last thing he ever could have imagined was Sarah as somebody's bridesmaid, and it wasn't even a cover. She really seemed to enjoy herself, being a part of something so intimate, so normal, as a wedding. Watching her through his binoculars from the distance, he had already known that she would say no. Nevertheless, he had to ask her anyway. That small shake of her head, signaling she was not coming, still hurt him now, even though more than a month has passed since then._

_A month. A lot had happened in that time. What could've happened to Chuck and Sarah? Were they together? With Chuck in training in Prague and Sarah off on some mission, probably not. Or maybe they found a way in spite of the circumstances..._

_Bryce shook his head. This wasn't him. He wasn't supposed to be wallowing in self-pity; he had to get over it very fast. After all, he was the second Human Intersect now. He had been specially chosen for the task, since he had always been great at controlling his emotions. He'd need a cool head for the Intersect to work properly. It was as simple as that. So, he was going to focus on training, and then jump into his next mission with both feet. And maybe, in his spare time, look into what Kate Moreau had been doing lately._


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: **Yep, we're still in the past, although not for long now :) Fans of Alias might find the guest star of this chapter familiar ;)

As always, many thanks to my wonderful betas, Lady Black-Malfoy and AwesomeQueenoftheLab for all their help, and to everyone who left a review, put it on story alert or favorited it! :) I'd love to get a bit more feedback from you guys, I can only improve this story if I know what you like or don't like about it!

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately I still don't own any of these characters. If only... :)

**Chapter 6**

_A couple of days later_

_Bryce never had such a blast with training before. But then again, he didn't have the wide-ranged skill set of the Intersect before either. His new martial arts skills were pretty good, although not that interesting since he did have fight training previously. However, the rest proved to be a lot more fun than he thought it could be, like sitting in front of a piano and starting to play like a professional concert pianist after a short glance at the instrument, or being able to crack security systems at lightning speed thanks to the schematics in his brain. Looking at his fellow agents and all of a sudden knowing almost everything about them was also interesting – not that he had met many people since he came back to life for the second time. With the Intersect uploaded in his head, all of a sudden he became one of the most-guarded secrets of the Agency. General Beckman went to great lengths to make sure that this time Bryce Larkin was really dead to the world. Sarah was even sent to Lisbon to supposedly bury his ashes, and apart from Team Bartowski, only a handful of doctors and other trustworthy agents knew that he was still alive._

_He was currently in the infirmary, testing his new field-medic skills under the supervision of the doctor who brought him back to life, when General Beckman showed up in the doorway with a thick folder in her hand. She gave a pointed look to the doctor, who understood her unspoken request and left the room quickly. As soon as he closed the door behind him, the General stepped closer to Bryce._

_"I understand you've been doing well with your training," she said._

_"Yes, General," Bryce replied. "Everything has been going perfect. The doctor also gave me a clean bill of health."_

_"So that means you're ready for your next mission," the General stated, looking him up and down._

_"More ready than I've ever been."_

_"Good. Did you know what your next assignment was supposed to be after you uploaded the Intersect?"_

_"Yes," he said, drawing out the word. "Finding Ring agents infiltrated in the FBI. Has that changed? Will I get another assignment?"_

_"No, the mission is still on; however, due to recent events we have modified the original plans." She handed the folder to Bryce, who opened it. His eyes widened in surprise as he read the first page._

_"I'm supposed to infiltrate the FBI as Neal Caffrey?"_

_"Do you have a problem with that?" the General asked._

_"No– yes– I mean, how am I supposed to pull that off? Especially in New York! I'm sure you know about my history with the White Collar Crime Unit there– "_

_"Yes, I do, and that's exactly why we have decided to use this specific cover," the General cut him off, giving him a stern look. "The Neal Caffrey alias is well established, and because of your previous connection to Agent Peter Burke, nobody would suspect anything about your real identity, or your mission. Kate Moreau's disappearance really came in handy for us. After all, Agent Burke knows Neal Caffrey well enough to believe he would escape from prison because of her. In the folder you'll find detailed reports of the White Collar Crime Unit's recent cases, with sufficient additional information to make yourself useful to them."_

_"I see," Bryce responded while skimming the contents of the folder. A nickname on one of the case reports, "The Dutchman," had immediately triggered a flash for him._

_"Anything important to us?" Beckman asked._

_"No, nothing connected to the Ring," Bryce answered, shaking his head a little as if to get rid of the after-effects of the flash. "However, there is another problem," he finally said, looking up._

_"What?"_

_"Neal Caffrey is supposed to have a vast knowledge about all kinds of arts, art reproduction, et cetera... There's no way I could pretend to know all that in front of the FBI, even with the Intersect."_

_"Don't worry, Agent Larkin. We've found a solution to that problem too." She turned on her heels and opened the door. "Follow me," she added when he didn't move._

_Once again, Bryce found himself in front of the Intersect room. As he entered the white-walled room, he couldn't help but replay the last time he had been in that place. He stifled a chuckle as he realized that this was his first time in an Intersect room without bleeding all over the place._

_There was already someone in the room – a short, stocky man in a white lab coat who was typing furiously on the keyboard of the Intersect computer. He had looked up when he heard the door open, and when he saw the General and Bryce enter, he started to wipe his hands nervously in his lab coat._

_"General Beckman!" he greeted the woman, hurrying out from behind the computer. "And you must be Agent Larkin." He turned to Bryce. "I'm– " He stopped as he noticed the tell-tale signs of Bryce flashing on him. "I– I guess you already know who I am," he stammered._

_"Yes, I do," Bryce responded, giving him an appreciative look. What he saw in the man's files was more than impressive. No one who met him for the first time would believe the nervous, nerdy guy used to work for the organization known as SD-6, and later for one of the CIA's most secret black ops group, APO._

_"Is everything ready?" the General asked impatiently._

_"Yes, yes, it is." The man went back to the computer. "I've set up a specialized version of the Intersect for you," he addressed Bryce again. "It consists of a vast database of everything related to art from the Stone Age to the latest trends, and a multitude of different artistic skills."_

_"So it's like an expansion pack to the Intersect 2.0?" Bryce asked. The man's eyes lit up at the analogy._

_"Exactly!" He beamed, then hesitated for a moment before asking, "Can I ask you something?"_

_"Sure, go ahead."_

_"The Intersect – I mean, the flashes – are they like tapping into the Matrix? Because I've always thought they would be like that. Except that nasty plug in the brain thing, that was pretty gross..."_

_"You know, I haven't really thought about it, but yeah, I guess they are," Bryce responded, giving the man an encouraging smile. It was good talking to a fellow nerd after such a long time._

_"I thought so!" The man became even more excited. "So, after the upload you can just go and say 'I know kung fu!' No, not that, I guess you already knew kung fu before the Intersect. But now you could say 'I know how to paint!'"_

_Bryce couldn't help but chuckle at the man's enthusiasm. It kind of reminded him of Morgan Grimes, Chuck's best friend since childhood, and a bit of Chuck Bartowski himself. It had been a long time since he allowed himself to be so enthusiastic about something, but uploading the Intersect did test his self-control. It took almost all of his efforts not to let his excitement about it show, at least not in front of General Beckman. Meanwhile, the technician kept on talking, oblivious to the General's growing impatience._

_"I was actually thinking about uploading a test version myself – a beta version, if you will. You know, everything I work on I usually test on myself first, but I didn't get permission to do it with the Intersect. Seems like eidetic memory doesn't necessarily equal a high subliminal image retention rate. Although, I don't really want to mess up my brain either in case something goes wrong with the upload, and my wife would surely kill me if I left her alone with the four kids– "_

_"Mr. Flinkman!" the General finally cut him off, annoyed. "Could we get started?"_

_"Oh, of course," the technician stammered, and started to type on the keyboard once again. Bryce stepped closer and passed him one pair of the protective sunglasses lying on the table. General Beckman had already put hers on. Bryce decided to lean on the table with both hands, trying to brace himself for the inevitable impact. When the technician finally put his palm on the reader, thus starting the upload, the room went dark for a split second, then thousands of pictures started to light up the walls and bombard Bryce's brain. The whole process didn't last for more than a few minutes, and when it ended and the room lit up once again, Bryce felt his whole world going dark as his legs started to give out under him._


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: **Last part of the flashback! Originally it was supposed to be much shorter, but once I got into Bryce's head, I just couldn't find the way out, it proved to be a trap that just didn't want to let me go ;D Hope you like it anyway! Of course I'm only gonna know whether you like it or not if you guys leave me a review ;)

As always, many thanks to my wonderful betas, Lady Black-Malfoy and AwesomeQueenoftheLab for all their help, and to everyone who left a review, put it on story alert or favorited it! :)

**Disclaimer: **Nope, still don't own any of these characters.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**_Five weeks later_**

_Bryce checked his watch. It was almost time. In three minutes, Bobby, the guard, would open the door of his cell and let him out. Then he would remove every item that's not supposed to be found in Neal Caffrey's cell. After all, Agent Burke would get really suspicious if he found the official reports of his current cases there, or the files on the Ring's activities. And the PSP Bryce smuggled in to kill time – or the various computer and gamer magazines – didn't really fit with Neal's personality either. All that was going to be left there was an old tape recorder, the carefully-updated calendar on the wall marking Neal Caffrey's days spent in prison, the drawings – all results of Bryce's newly acquired artistic skills and expertly aged to make it look like they'd been hanging on the wall for the last four years – a few other pieces of art, and a couple of books and brochures that would give Agent Burke a clue about his escape plans._

_His escape was meticulously planned down to the smallest detail. Once he was out of his cell, he would be going straight to the staff restroom. There he was going to shave off the annoying, itchy beard he had to grow out during the last five weeks. After that, he was going to change into the guard uniform that was currently hidden in the water tank, simply walk out of the building using his re-striped utility card and "borrow" one of the maintenance trucks. Once he was at a safe distance, Warden Haskley would alert the US Marshals about Neal Caffrey's escape, who in turn would ask for Agent Burke's help in recapturing him._

_Bryce still wasn't sure about the success of this plan. It all depended on Agent Burke's goodwill and acceptance of his help. He would also have to be really careful not to slip up in front of the agent. After all, if it weren't for Peter Burke, the Neal Caffrey alias wouldn't have had to be retired in the first place. At that time, Bryce had actually lamented a little at having to say goodbye to that life – it definitely was one of the more fun covers he had. Who would have thought he would actually get a second chance to use it?_

_He glanced down once again at the PSP that was lying on top of the stack of folders, waiting to be taken away. Many people would have thought it childish, but he didn't care. He wasn't about to give up on his newly rediscovered hobby. Not after all that he'd been through lately._

_Being forced to stay in bed for weeks gave him plenty of time to reflect on his life. He almost died again, for the second time in two years. This definitely wasn't what he imagined being a spy would be like when he was first recruited. Then again, he didn't really expect the decisions he would have had to make, starting with effectively having to destroy Chuck's future to save him from being recruited. He didn't really think about the consequences his actions would bring either; he just did whatever he considered the best at that given moment._

_Looking back on his life, he had to realize how different he was now from the carefree young man that started at Stanford University almost ten years before. That Bryce Larkin spent most of his time having fun, reading comic books, watching Star Trek, learning to speak Klingon, and dedicating whole nights to playing video games. That Bryce Larkin had been dreaming about starting his own software/video game company with his best friend. But, as usual, he didn't think of the possible consequences when he got the chance and decided to join the CIA in his junior year._

_Now he had begun to realize that the more effort he put towards becoming the perfect spy, the more he lost his personality. First he just stopped playing video games (there hadn't really been anyone to play with anyway after he had gotten Chuck kicked out); then he didn't have much time to watch TV anymore. After that, he started to see his family less and less often, only concentrating on his next mission, and not spending a single minute just enjoying life, except for the moments he spent with Sarah between missions. Even after the first time he came back from the dead he was thrown into his next mission without having time to really even catch his breath._

_And now here he was, all alone. With his parents and his sister believing him dead for two years now. With the woman he loved now in love with his once-best friend. And with nothing but his next deep cover assignment to look forward to. No, he decided. He needed more from life than just that. He needed to actually live, not just exist and work. All of a sudden he wished he still was that young and carefree Bryce that he used to be before he was recruited: the one who had a family and friends, not just colleagues and bosses; the one who had hobbies and interests, not just his work; the one who had no problems showing off his nerdy side. The sci-fi marathon during his bed rest was like getting in touch with his old self again, and it made him yearn for more. It brought back the memory of those good old times, and at the same time also made him realize how much he had lost since then, especially of himself. He could only hope and pray that the training wouldn't do the same thing to Chuck._

_Then again, probably not. The last time they'd met, Chuck seemed pretty much the same guy he used to know, in spite of being forced to be in the spy world for the last two years. His room definitely didn't show any changes in his personality the last time Bryce saw it. Seeing the old _Tron_ poster on the wall that he knew so well from their shared room at Stanford and all the other comic book paraphernalia strewn about the room did make Bryce nostalgic for a second, but back then he didn't allow himself to feel anything; he just completed his own little private mission of tricking Chuck into updating the Intersect. Chuck also had a couple of important things Bryce didn't really have anymore – people who would keep him grounded like his sister and his best friend. Yeah, they wouldn't let Chuck become an emotionless super-spy machine._

_That was it, Bryce thought. That was exactly what he needed to do right now. Take Chuck Bartowski's example and not let his job rob him of who he really is, or, if it's too late for that, at least he should try to become more like that old Bryce Larkin he once used to be, with his own interests and hobbies and as much of a life outside his work as possible. As crazy as it sounded even to himself right when he was supposed to start his deep cover assignment as someone completely different, he felt like he couldn't go through with this mission without getting back at least a part of his old self. Of course, he wouldn't do anything to risk his cover, but playing some Call of Duty on his downtime wouldn't make him a worse spy._

_Besides, indulging his impulses could also be looked at as getting into character. After all, Neal Caffrey was supposed to have the impulse control of a three-year-old child. So once again he had decided to ignore the consequences and bought a PSP, along with a few games, before stepping on the plane that would take him to New York and the maximum-security prison where Neal Caffrey supposedly spent his last four years._

_Becoming Neal Caffrey again sure had its perks. At least this way he had a good excuse to try and find Kate Moreau – it would even be expected of him. It would also mean seeing some of his old contacts again, like Mozzie, who was the closest thing to a friend he had after losing Chuck's friendship. While the conman's paranoia and fear of the institution came in handy for Bryce in terms of not having to worry about Mozzie's visits in prison, he was also sure that as soon as Mozzie got wind that Neal was out on the streets again, he would show up immediately. There was also the possibility of running into Alex Hunter at some point, and who knew what it would be like working together with Agent Burke and his team..._

_The sound of heavy steps approaching his cell jerked him from his thoughts. He checked his watch once more. It was time._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_Oh yes_, Bryce thought, _things were definitely not supposed to end up this way._

He was supposed to come in, do his job, flush out the Ring agents, and then disappear and go on to his next assignment. While he knew this mission could be long-term, he never expected how attached he would become to this place. After all, in the eyes of everyone here he was a con artist, a criminal, someone forced down on their throats, and someone to be kept on a tight leash. They were not supposed to work together so well with him, they were not supposed to like him, and, most importantly, they were not supposed to become friends. Yet that's exactly what happened. As much as he tried to suppress it, his enjoyment of catching bad guys just overcame him in every case they worked on, even if it was on a smaller scale than he was used to, and that in turn made the FBI agents working at the White Collar Crime Unit to quickly accept him.

All right, maybe not all of them. But as much as Lauren Cruz tried to show her annoyance with him and put him in his place every chance she got, Bryce knew she couldn't really resist the "Caffrey charm." Clinton Jones wasn't even trying to pretend that he didn't like Neal, even if he was still cautious with him. And Peter Burke...

That relationship was really unexpected. Who would have thought that Peter Burke, the agent who caught him twice, would end up as one of his best friends? During his first stint as Neal Caffrey, Bryce had the same "holier-than-thou" attitude towards the FBI as many of his fellow CIA agents, and when he finally met Peter Burke in person after cashing in some of his forged bonds, he fully bought into the man's bumbling FBI agent act. So much so that the Neal Caffrey persona completely took him over, and, in spite of Mozzie's warning, he couldn't resist making fun of the agent by giving him the sucker he got from the bank teller. That was a serious mistake and he soon realized that, because from that moment on Peter Burke was hot on his trail. And when he kept burning his aliases one by one, Bryce vowed never to underestimate the agent again.

Sure, he did keep teasing Agent Burke every chance he got, but that was strictly to keep up his cover. And in the end, when the agent eventually got so close to him that he almost blew one of Bryce's ops that wasn't connected to the Neal Caffrey alias, Bryce had no other option than to report it to his superiors, who devised a quick way to extract him without compromising his cover; a way that resulted in four years of prison for Neal Caffrey.

So, while this time around he knew he had to be extra careful around Peter Burke, he had no idea the main reason for that was going to be that he was getting too close to the man. Of course he expected Peter to be watching his every move so he wouldn't escape or commit any crimes while on his watch, but he never thought he would do it out of sympathy, concern, and much less because of the friendship they'd slowly developed. But working together as partners day after day gave both men the chance to learn to appreciate the other's smarts and professionalism in their own chosen field. Of course, Peter could never approve of Neal's way of using his talents and his methods in many occasions, but as he noticed that his new consultant seemed to get just as much of a thrill out of catching the bad guys as he did being one of them, he couldn't help but try to stir him to the right side of the law. And Bryce knew it wasn't just because of the agent's duty as a law enforcement officer. It was surprisingly with affection, because he apparently saw something in this "kid" that was worthy to be saved.

This inherent goodness that seemed to override Peter's usually careful and suspicious nature, and that resulted in slowly building up a trust between them, didn't leave Bryce untouched either. Things might have gone differently if he got this assignment a year or two ago, when he would have handled it with the same detachment as all his other missions. But no, he got it when he was more vulnerable, more in need of bonding and relationships with other people than ever. It was just like that old Chinese curse Mozzie always quoted: "May you find what you're looking for." Well, he sure did find it. He wanted friends and a family, and he got the closest thing to it. June became almost like a substitute mother for him, and as different as Elizabeth Burke was from Penelope Larkin (not to mention the age difference between the two women), she has been treating "Neal" more and more like a brother. And Peter...

He couldn't even start to define his relationship with the agent. At times he felt like an older brother, at times he treated him almost as a father would a son. But most of all he became a true friend, one whom Bryce really learned to value, and to whom he felt like he had to prove his worth. He couldn't help but feel good when he saw Peter almost bursting with pride after "Neal did something good," and it almost pained him whenever he had to disappoint him by pulling one of his Neal-esque stunts in order to find out something about Kate. At times he almost wished he could tell the agent who he really was, that they were actually working on the same side, but now that his cover being blown was a possibility, all of a sudden he was terrified.

It was the last thing that was supposed to happen. Peter was never supposed to find out about the spy world Bryce lived in, much less become involved in it. It was simply too dangerous. He had learned the consequences of pushing an innocent civilian into the spy world the hard way, and while he still told himself that he had no other choice when it came to what he did to Chuck, this time it wasn't the same. For starters, he knew he wasn't the same thoughtless, self-centered guy who got his best friend kicked out of Stanford for his own good, just assuming everything would work out fine for the man, and then being surprised to see him working at a dead-end job and living with his sister, all while trying to handle the consequences of Bryce making another life-changing decision for him for the second time.

No, this time Bryce knew he wouldn't be able to even look at himself in the mirror if anything happened to Peter because of one of his mistakes. Especially since this time he hadn't been forced to make a quick decision in a life-or-death situation. This time he was simply careless. And while Peter wasn't as much of a complete outsider to the intelligence world as Chuck was – he was a fully trained FBI agent, after all – he still wasn't prepared to get involved in the fight against the Ring.

His thoughts were interrupted by the dinging sound that signaled the elevator's arrival. When Bryce saw Peter exit the elevator with a haunted look on his face, he felt his heart rise up into his throat. Still, he couldn't let anyone notice his own sudden nervousness, so he plastered one of his brightest Neal Caffrey grins on his face, stood up from his desk, and hurried over to his partner.

"So, how was last night?" he asked Peter in a cheerful tone, trying to keep up with the agent's quick pace towards the staircase. "Did Elizabeth like her present?"

"Don't even ask!" Peter answered gloomily, practically running up the stairs and hurrying into his enclosed office space.

"Why? What happened?" Bryce asked, seemingly puzzled. However, one glance at Peter's desk answered all of his questions, especially the one about why the agent had returned the previous night. "Oh!" was all he could say.

"Yeah," Peter replied. "I screwed it up. Again." Before he could say anything more, Agent Clinton Jones appeared in the door that connected Peter's office with the conference room.

"Peter, you might want to see this." He held out a thin folder to the agent. "The Collector has struck again."

"Great, just what I needed!" Peter muttered, raising his eyes to the ceiling before taking the folder and opening it. Seeing the contents, he raised one eyebrow. "Are you sure it was him?" he asked Jones.

"May I see it?" Bryce cut in, holding out his hand for the folder. Peter gave it to him without a word. As soon as he opened it and caught a glance of the picture on the first page, the flash hit him full force, so fast that he didn't even have time to concentrate on hiding it.

"Victor Vasarely's 'Boo'," he finally said, identifying the painting. "Are you sure it was him?" he looked up at Jones, echoing Peter. "I thought his tastes were a lot more, well, classical; op-art just seems too modern for him!"

"Yeah, I would've expected him to choose a Vermeer or a Van Eyck if he wanted something starting with a V..." Peter trailed off, slightly stunned once again at the veritable fountain of information Neal Caffrey proved to be. At times he thought it was almost as if the man carried a complete art database in his head.

"There's no doubt," Jones answered. "The method is the same as in all the other cases."

"Great..." Peter muttered again. "Well, get on it and maybe we can catch him while the trail is still hot. I need to attend a meeting," he said, glancing at his watch before giving Neal a concerned look. As preoccupied as he was, he still caught the weird expression on his consultant's face when he looked at the painting and the little shake of his head right after that, as if he had been trying to clear it from something.

Bryce was scared. He could only hope that Peter didn't notice his flash, but when he looked up at his partner and saw the concern on his face, he knew he was hoping in vain. Trying to prevent the inevitable question, he decided to attack first.

"So, where are we going?"

"Are you OK?" Peter asked back, instead of answering him.

"Sure, why?" Bryce responded, trying to be nonchalant. Meanwhile, his mind was racing, trying to come up with an acceptable explanation.

"You looked like you just had a seizure or something."

"Oh, it was nothing. I just have a slight migraine," Bryce said, the first thing that came to mind.

"Migraine? Since when do you get migraines?" Peter asked, now worried.

"Since Kate... you know." Bryce left the end of the sentence dangling on purpose.

Peter felt his anger rise. He didn't say anything, because he knew they would only start to fight because of Kate Moreau again, but this was more than he could take. It was enough that Kate was playing with Neal's feelings, something Peter was pretty sure of at least, but that it even started to take a toll on Neal's physical health was more than Peter was willing to tolerate. However, Neal's next question shook him out of his anger:

"So, where are we going, again?"

"WE are not going anywhere," he replied. "This is a private meeting."

"Really?" Bryce started to grin, an idea forming in his head. He purposefully stared at Peter's desk, more specifically at the small gift-wrapped box on top of it. "Peter, I'm starting to think I'm a bad influence on you! Skipping work to make it up to your wife. I'm proud of you!" He ended his small monologue with a knowing look and a wink at the agent. It had the desired effect; at first Peter looked at him a bit confused before settling into accepting the offered explanation and running with it.

"Don't start gloating," he admonished him in mock anger. "This is just an exception." He grabbed his coat from the chair, where he threw it just a few minutes before, and started in the direction of the door.

"In that case, aren't you forgetting something?" Bryce asked, picking up the box from the desk and throwing it to Peter. The agent fumbled, trying to catch it, and gave Bryce one last fake-angry look before turning around and leaving, a small smile creeping into the corner of his mouth in spite of his mood. In turn, Bryce's trademark Neal Caffrey grin disappeared from his face as he watched his partner disappear among the other agents.

"Good luck, Peter," he whispered, almost inaudibly. "You're gonna need it."


	9. Chapter 9

**_Chapter 9_**

Peter pulled up in front of the Millennium Hilton two minutes before nine AM. To his luck, he managed to find an empty parking space close by. As soon as he walked through the glass doors of the four-star hotel, a young man in his late twenties – wearing a dark grey suit that gave the impression of him being an employee of the hotel – intercepted him. He seemed to be waiting for Peter already.

"Agent Burke?" the man asked Peter in a low voice, although it was obvious he knew exactly who Peter was. When Peter nodded, he introduced himself with an offered hand, "I'm Captain Thompson. General Beckman sent me for you. Follow me, please."

The man headed towards an elevator bank, and Peter followed him into one of the open doors. As soon as it closed behind them, the young Captain pulled out a small device.

"I'm sorry, Agent Burke. I have to check you for bugs," he explained upon seeing Peter's puzzled look.

"OK, go ahead," Peter acquiesced.

The Captain did a quick sweep in front of and behind Peter with the device, and when it didn't emit any sound he put it away. By that time the elevator seemed to have reached its destination. When the door opened, Peter was surprised to see the underground parking lot instead of the hallway of one of the upper floors. The Captain led him to one of the cars parked nearby and opened the back door for him.

"We have to make sure you weren't followed," he said, correctly interpreting the confused expression on Peter's face.

"All right" Peter said, sighing. "But don't you think you're going a bit overboard with all these security measures?"

"I'm sorry, but it's all protocol for cases like this one," the Captain replied cryptically, and got in the driver's seat. Peter also got in the car, sitting in the back. He looked out the darkened window, trying to guess their destination when after just a few minutes they seemed to stop. Shock surged though him as he saw they had arrived at the Downtown Manhattan Heliport.

"I thought I was supposed to meet General Beckman!" he exclaimed to Captain Thompson, who was getting out of the car.

"You are," the man answered Peter, once he was out of the car also. "She's expecting you in her office. In D.C."

Peter's jaw dropped. He didn't expect such a long trip for this meeting. At that moment, the familiar thrum of an approaching helicopter soon took his breath away and he was unable to respond. It landed on one of the landing pads close to them, kicking up debris. Captain Thompson went to open the door for Peter, and then helped him in the helicopter. There was a pair of headsets lying on the seats, and Peter grabbed one then put it on, reducing the noise level in the cabin. Thompson slid the door shut behind Peter, then moved quickly around the helicopter and got in on the other side. As soon as he fastened his seatbelt and indicated to the pilot all was good to go, the helicopter immediately lifted into the sky.

* * *

The hour-long helicopter ride seemed to crawl by. For the first time in his life Peter felt like he had no control over a situation he found himself in. It wasn't really the ride itself, since it wasn't his first time in a helicopter. The problem was that his thoughts were taking him to places he didn't really like. He'd never been paranoid before, and he could never understand conspiracy theorists like Neal's friend, Mozzie. However, when the helicopter lifted off, a tiny voice started to whisper in the back of his mind. It kept saying that the easiest way to make sure Peter kept quiet about last night's incident was to just make him disappear without a trace, and he just made their jobs easier by doing everything they wanted without even questioning it. He did try to reason with himself that he had no reason to worry, since they didn't even try to take away his gun (a fact that did comfort him to some degree). But as much as he tried to ignore the nagging little voice, it just popped up time and time again.

Yet, in spite of his worst fears, here he was, sitting in the waiting room of General Beckman's office on the fifth floor of the D.N.I. Headquarters and watching the three secretaries taking calls at a scary speed. The middle one especially, who seemed to have mastered the art of saying, "NSA, General Beckman's office, please hold," in under half a second.

Suddenly, the door opposite the office's entrance opened and a petite redheaded woman in a General's uniform stepped out. Peter recognized her from the photos his search brought up; however, he was surprised to see that she was much shorter than he expected. Nevertheless, she had such an intimidating vibe about her that when Peter stood up, he felt like he was the shorter one of the two of them.

"Agent Burke," she greeted and held out her hand.

"General Beckman," Peter returned the greeting as he accepted the firm handshake. The General then motioned for him to enter her office, and she snapped the door closed behind him.

"Please, take a seat," she said as she sat down behind her desk. "Thank you for coming."

"You didn't exactly leave me any other choice," Peter grumbled, but when he saw the General's slightly surprised look, he backpedaled. "Sorry, I mean I'm not really used to being whisked off by the NSA in a helicopter. So, you said you were willing to explain about that classified operation I've interrupted?"

"First of all, I need you to sign this." The General put a sheet of paper and a pen in front of him. The agent recognized the document as a Standard Form 312, a non-disclosure agreement for classified information. He glanced up at her as she said seriously, "None of what you're about to hear may leave this room, under any circumstances."

_OK, this must be really serious,_ Peter thought as he picked up the pen, and, after a quick skim of the text, signed it. He gave it back to the General, who then put it in a drawer of her desk. She gave out a small sigh, and started her explanation.

"The man you met last night is an agent of the CIA," she said, and Peter's eyebrows went up in surprise. "His name is Bryce Larkin, and he's a member of a joint task force between the NSA and the CIA."

"The NSA and the CIA have a have a joint task force? I didn't think the CIA operated domestically," Peter commented curiously.

"Yes. I suppose you would think that." She eyed him over the desk, and he bristled at the slight barb. "The cooperation started after 9/11 as a simple exchange of intelligence. However, after an incident that's irrelevant to this conversation, the two agencies were forced to work together more closely. We have set up a team with a minimal number of agents from both sides. Ever since then, this team has proved to be surprisingly effective in eliminating various criminals and terrorists both here and overseas. Lately, though, they've been battling a very specific threat." She paused for a moment, as if to make sure that Peter was absorbing the information, and, at his nod, continued. "This threat involves the FBI as well," she said, and Peter just stared at her. "We believe there is a mole, or moles, within the FBI who work for an organization that goes by the name The Ring. Have you ever heard of them?"

"Not that I can remember. Who are they?" he questioned.

"The Ring is a criminal organization primarily comprised of intelligence officers with the goal of taking over the power of the government. They've already managed to infiltrate the CIA, the NSA, the DEA, the FBI, and a number of other intelligence organizations," she said gravely.

Peter sat back in his chair, slightly speechless. He never expected the situation to be so serious and so absurd at the same time. _This sounds like something straight out of a bad spy novel,_ he thought without humor. At his silence, the General went on.

"Agent Larkin has been working undercover in the FBI for the last few months. His job is to determine the level of infiltration within your agency and to identify the Ring agents."

"And you think Garrett Fowler is one of these Ring agents? It was his laptop that was broken into," Peter added.

"We only know it's someone within the bureau's Office of Professional Responsibility. Either Special Agent Fowler or someone else on his team," she replied.

"And that was why Larkin was in the White Collar offices. OPR is currently investigating me," Peter concluded.

"Agent Larkin had copied the hard drives of all the computers used by the OPR group; however, he found no connections that could tie any of them to the Ring."

"So are you going to continue with the operation?" Peter asked.

"Yes. Agent Larkin was going to work the case alone until we found the Ring agents. But now that you've gotten yourself involved in this case," she ignored his snort of contempt and went on, "we have to ask for your help as well."

"Me?" Peter asked, now shocked. "What can I do? The Bureau doesn't exactly train its agents in espionage tactics."

"You do not have to spy," General Beckman reassured him. "We don't want you involved any more than absolutely necessary. But you are in close contact with Fowler and his team, and it would be nice to have another pair of eyes on them. Watch them closely and report anything suspicious. That's all I ask."

"But what exactly am I supposed to look out for? I don't really know any of them well enough to know what counts as suspicious behavior for them…"

"Anything that doesn't seem to be consistent with their current work at your unit. I'm sure you'll know when you see it."

"And just who am I supposed to report to?" Peter questioned.

Beckman reached down into another one of her desk drawers and pulled out a small cell phone. She set it down in front of Peter.

"This is a phone with a secure line. Take it. Agent Larkin already knows its number, so he'll be using it to get in contact with you; he'll be your handler. Whenever you have something to report, send a text message to the first number listed. He'll inform you of the following steps to take."

Peter picked up the phone and examined it. It looked like any other average cell phone with a camera. At first glance, there was nothing special about it, although knowing where it came from did make Peter wonder if it had any hidden features.

"I'm not sure I'm the right man for this job," he said slowly as he turned the phone around in his hands.

"I think you underestimate your skills," the General said. "After all, your rate in solving cases is way above the FBI's average rate. I understand you had some big catches, like Neal Caffrey, for example."

"How do you know about…" Peter trailed off as he noticed his name on the folder lying in front of the General. "Of course, you've read my file," he answered his own question. "But wait a minute, are you suspecting Neal? I really don't think..." he caught himself upon seeing the General's raised eyebrow.

_Why the hell am I defending Neal?_ he asked himself.

"I'm sorry," he said out loud. "He's a convicted felon on a work release, of course he'd be your first suspect." He relaxed as he saw the General's frown disappear. "But still, I really don't think Neal is the mole you're looking for. He's many things, but I don't think he'd ever work for an organization like this Ring. He doesn't even like guns..."

"Don't worry, Agent Burke. We know that. And you can be relieved, Neal Caffrey isn't the mole." Beckman watched as Peter let out a small sigh of relief. "However, I don't think you understand the seriousness of this situation. The Ring's level of infiltration may go way beyond even our knowledge. Last year we managed to destroy an organization named FULCRUM, which later turned out to be only a subsidiary of the Ring. FULCRUM's leader was Ted Roark."

Peter's eyes widened. "Ted Roark? Of Roark Instruments?" he asked, shocked at the name.

"Exactly. And it's very likely that there are other businessmen of his caliber among the members of the Ring. Can you imagine what that means?"

Peter just sat silently, trying to digest all the information he just got. "All right, I'll do what I can," he finally said, rather reluctantly, and slipped the phone into his jacket pocket.

The General gave him a slightly grateful and encouraging look before she said, "Agent Burke, you will still have to be extremely careful. Agent Fowler and his team must not suspect that you are watching them. If the mole finds out you're after him, the consequences could be fatal, especially for you."

Peter took a moment to try and gather his thoughts. It was almost a bit too much for him. He swallowed nervously before finding his voice.

"I'm grateful for your trust, General, and I promise to help you and your team in any way I can. I am curious, though. If these Ring agents are so hard to detect, how can you be sure I'm not one of them?"

"Agent Larkin had looked extensively into everyone in the FBI that he would come in contact with. You were one of the first people to be cleared," she said, giving him a small smile.

"I see…" Peter said, before the significance of what the General had said hit him. "Everyone he came in contact with? Does this mean I know him personally? Is he working in my unit?"

"Don't," the General ordered, putting up her hand. "Don't try to access his file, and don't even think about investigating who he is. Any attempts to discover his true identity would not only compromise his cover, but it has the potential to raise the mole's attention to you as well."

"So that means I'm right, I do know him," Peter insisted, his mind already running over potential candidates.

"I didn't say that," the General exclaimed, although she knew it was futile trying to deny her slip-up. "Listen, Agent Burke, I understand that you want to know more about this situation, but for our – and your own – security, I have to ask you to refrain from acting on your instincts. You can only do what Agent Larkin or I ask you to do. Not including your normal line of work, of course."

"I guess I don't have any other choice, do I?" Peter said, and sighed resignedly. "Very well. I'll follow your orders."

"Thank you, Agent Burke." The General stood up, which Peter took as a signal that it was the end of the conversation. "Your help will be invaluable to us." Then unexpectedly, almost with kindness, she added, "Be careful. I don't want to explain to your wife or unit why they have a dead FBI agent on their hands."

"Thank you. I'll try." Peter accepted her offered hand, then walked out of her office. As soon as the door closed, the General picked up her phone and dialed a number.

"Done," she said into the speaker. "Now it's your turn, Agent Larkin."


End file.
